A Survival Story
by frica nature jeane shaniqua
Summary: The story of the survivor of an outbreak.


A Survival Story

Average day at school. Nothing more. That's how the day started. It wasn't like I didn't enjoy average days, they just can't be described as anything more than average. Sitting in the hall with your closest friends, cramming for the test next period. Yeah average day.

But average days define the strange. Think of it this way- without average what can different be? So that's why that day became so un-average… dis-average? Un-averageable? Whatever, the only thing I know is that one minute I'm learning how to find point c on the graph of a parabola, and the next minute everyone's screaming. What was I supposed to do, sit there and let people trample me? I didn't know what was going on so why should I stick around and find out?

I don't remember much of what happened next, most of it was a blur. I remember running down through the never ending hallway, adding my screams of terror to the chorus. I remember pushing and shoving to get to the front of the line, running from and unknown tormentor.

I remember their moans.

I remember the blood.

It all went black.

I woke to find myself in complete darkness. _Holy crap_, I thought, _I'm blind_. I started to feel about, probably thrashing my arms more violently than intended because I heard a deep grunt of pain from some unknown source.

"Shut up and sit still," came an unknown commanding voice, "do you want them to find us?"

"Sorry," I whispered and calmed down wondering who _they_ were.

And more importantly where my ipod had gotten to. That thing cost me $300. My parents were going to kill me.

I look back on that moment now with a mixture of disgust and hatred. Stupid.

The baby's cry had woken me from my sweet dream about Halo. Damn. That was a good game.

My ears picked up the frantic whispering of some people. I tried not to listen, but the more you try not to listen the more you do.

"Shut it up," whispered Person One.

"I can't she's hungry," whispered Person Two, "It's been two days without food."

Two days? I hadn't realized how hungry I was. Damn.

"If you don't shut it up I will," whispered Person Three.

This shit just got real.

I heard the mother try to snuggle the baby close to her.

I heard the people wrestling it from her.

I heard the baby crying.

I heard silence.

I curled up tighter and fell asleep. I wasn't my problem. The less noise the safer, that's all I knew.

What I didn't know was that they had heard. I was going to have a scrape with their kind again. Wasn't one time enough?

I always had bad luck.

At least I was alive.

The worst part is hearing them on the outside, pushing to get inside. Pushing to kill.

The wall creaked. Not the door. Not the door frame. The wall.

The wall exploded and a stream of light flowed into the room. My eyes burned, but I forced myself to examine my surroundings.

Tired survivors.

An overflowing latrine.

A decaying baby.

Zombies.

I ducked as the first one swung its arm at me. Not fast enough. It slapped me across the face. Bitch.

A strong hand grabbed the back of my shirt and dragged me away. I struggled.

"Stop struggling," said Commanding Voice as I turned around to look at him. Shaved head. Beefy. Military.

He threw me aside like a dirty washcloth.

A series of sonic booms made my ears scream in torment. Military Man had shot a .45 in a concrete room. Brilliant.

I found that I was on my feet again. Military had pulled me up.

"Can you walk?" He asked.

_What? Walk? What is walking?_

Uhhhh….

I nodded.

"Good," he said and then he ran out of the room.

I stepped forward. And fell.

_Get up, try again._

I stumbled into the light. More zombies. More dead zombies. Military Man had been there.

There he was, looking out a window. I slowly walked over to him.

"How tall are you?" He asked without diverting his gaze.

"Five one," I lied. I'm really five foot.

"How much do you weigh?"

Another personal question. Another lie.

He pointed out the window, past the crowd of zombies, to a small shack.

"There are weapons and a radio in there. I've been bitten. Save yourself. Remember what happened here today."

Remember what? The murder or the fear? Better not to ask.

He picked me up.

And out the window I flew.

The ground came closer.

And closer.

And closer.

Bam!

Ignoring my pain I ran for the last time of my life. Hoards of undead followed me.

The shack came closer.

And closer.

And closer.

Bam!

I ran into the shack. Dumbass.

I ripped the door open and quickly shut it. A zombie ran into the door. Dumbass.

I looked around the room.

Spent casings.

Blood.

No bodies.

This had been someone else's last stand.

I inventoried the room. No radio.

Pen and paper. Military Man's last wish will be honored.

One gun.

One bullet.

No chance.

I can hear them out there, all clamoring for my flesh. I'm not even cornered. I'm boxed, surrounded, if you will. I pick up the gun and I push it against my head.

**A single shot ran out through the darkening sky. Corporal James McTailor looked out toward the shack one last time before he answered with his own chord.**

**A single shot ran out through the darkening sky.**


End file.
